


The cup of Truth

by FreckledDragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:42:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledDragon/pseuds/FreckledDragon
Summary: A newly established kingdom sends their representatives to establish a peaceful contract with Camelot. Though King Arthur does his best to accommodate these potential allies, Merlin is less convinced of their intentions and, of course, causes a commotion. Now, it's up to Arthur to decide the fate of his kingdom and of his manservant.





	1. Chapter 1

The citadel was bustling with life as servants and noblemen alike were preparing for the grand feast planned for the evening. A fairly new kingdom had reached out to Camelot in an attempt to get past the barrier of neutrality and join King Arthur’s growing assembly of allies. It seemed that Arthur Pendragon’s enemies were either converted or defeated and many agreed to serve under his rule. Thus, the best opportunity of survival would be to join the league of justice and choosing a righteous path. The king himself was never shy of guests and always strived to create a united Albion. So, as the chef yelled irritably at her staff to hurry up and prepare the grand dinner for the two bargaining kingdoms, the king’s manservant ran about the castle to make sure everything was as it should be. He’d already served the king his breakfast, before rushing to get his ceremonial clothing cleaned, then back again to dress the king before a council meeting, then back to clean the king’s chambers, then fetching his king’s lunch and helping with prepping for his speech, and before he knew it evening had arrived, and he had hardly had a minute’s break to even consider himself. However, as the fair and just Once and Future King, his lord made sure to remind him.

“Merlin!” sounded the familiar roar as the manservant returned out of breath from running some last-minute errands. Feverishly, Merlin looked the king up and down, then scrutinised the room for any mistake he might have made. Finding none, he relaxed slightly and frowned at the king.

“What?” Merlin stated in a huff of annoyance, exhausted from his chores and the usual absence of acknowledgement for his hard work. _The prat wouldn’t thank me, even if he knew how many times I’ve saved his life_ , Merlin thought, allowing himself to take pride in some of his achievements by Arthur’s side. _Which I have done. A lot. Stupid, selfish horse-ars-_

His train of thought was interrupted by a pile of soft clothing thrown in his face. He let out a surprised _oomph_ and was about to complain that he’d already done the laundry before he realised the state of the clothes. Hesitantly, he held them out to see them more closely, then turned his gaze towards the king.

“A bit underwhelming, don’t you think? What’s wrong with what you’re dressed in now?” he asked, eyeing the king’s beautifully adorned coat and the slender, fitting sleeves that revealed some of Arthur’s physique. Not dwelling on that last thought he shifted his gaze to the, admittedly, formal and nice clothing, though less complex and royal than what was fitting for a monarch. An impatient huff caught Merlin’s attention just in time for him to notice the king rolling his eyes, as though he could not believe Merlin’s stupidity. Sure enough, Arthur exclaimed in his usual manner:

“Merlin, you absolute idiot. It’s for you, of course. I couldn’t possibly let myself be seen in such dull garments but seeing as you have no intention of finding something more appropriate than… that,” he said and gestured to Merlin’s ragged clothing and his trait mark of a neckerchief, “I found it my duty as king and host to at least make you presentable. We don’t want these people to think that we’re sleazy, so it’s a good thing they’re only staying for the night and won’t have the opportunity to see you as your useless self.”

Arthur grinned at the offended ‘oi!’ that Merlin instinctively responded with before turning his back to attend some documents and letting the servant change.

“It’s a good thing they didn’t arrive this morning then, your royal laziness” Merlin muttered just loud enough for Arthur to hear as he walked out the chamber. An empty cup hit the wall right next to his ear, causing Merlin to yelp and turn to run down the hallway, though not fast enough to miss the hearty laugh of the king, and then he couldn’t help but smile himself.

Though the visiting kingdom was rumoured to be small in its early stage, at least two dozen showed at the castle’s doorstep. Two people, king and queen, it seemed, led the troops on their horses, which were the largest Merlin had ever seen. The following knights and other guests were scruffy-looking and, like the horses, quite bulky in size. Merlin couldn’t help but wonder what exactly they sought from Camelot; as it looked, they didn’t need much help to defend themselves or even defeat whichever enemies they might have. Royal as ever, Arthur stood tall and unaffected by the look of his guests and merely greeted them with a polite smile – one that Merlin didn’t care much for; it was the genuine ones that he sent his people and his loved ones that meant something and showed his being, not the plastered, formal and impersonal ones. Arthur escorted the couple into the citadel, making his way towards the hall set up for the feast while servants carefully eyed the large beasts and struggled to get them installed in the stables. Merlin sympathised for them while waiting patiently for the guests to enter. He looked for an open spot, where he could go inside, unnerved by being away from Arthur and having to let him walk with strangers. In the process, he got eye contact with one of the guests. He tried to look away, but every time his gaze returned, the man was still looking at him. He had broad shoulders, like the rest of them, and a bald head adorned with strange markings. Examining further, Merlin noticed that the markings continued beneath his shirt and even extended as far to his arms and hands. A breeze passed through, causing a shiver to arise in the young man, and finally, there was room for him to squeeze inside.

His feet instinctively brought him to Arthur’s side, behind his chair in the dining hall. He was one of the last few to enter, which meant that Arthur was standing, preparing his welcoming speech. Merlin had spent most of his breaks during the day to help Arthur writing it. As always, Arthur wanted it to be perfect; he wanted to leave the right impression so that he appeared open and welcoming. He would do anything to gain an ally rather than an enemy. Throughout the speech, everyone was entranced by the king’s posture and sincerity, perhaps most of all his invisible manservant. Merlin beamed with pride at his king – and best friend. Though their first years together had been complicated with boundaries constantly crossed and superficial things such as misunderstandings and social ranking, their relationship had only flourished year after year. They trusted each other more than anyone and understood each other better than they understood themselves. Merlin couldn’t help but feel eternally grateful for their relationship and the opportunity to become so close to Arthur. Even so, a small part of him was aching. That small part, the only part that Arthur did not know of, and the one part that was essential to Merlin’s being: his magic. He had wanted to tell Arthur so many times, but during Uther’s regime it was near impossible, and after that, as time went on, it got more and more difficult to tell the person who mattered the most to him, that he had been hiding for so long.

Quickly, Merlin shook the thought off as tears started gathering in his eyes, and instead he focused on clapping after Arthur’s final sentence, before rushing forward to fill the king’s cup with wine for the joined toast. Leaning over the king, Merlin noticed that Arthur’s cup was already filled. The servant frowned, not recalling that he had done so before. Deciding that he definitely hadn’t, he leaned back again, though not before taking a sniff of the king’s drink. The sharp scent of wine filled his nose, seemingly normal, but Merlin wasn’t quite satisfied. He looked down and whispered a spell to enhance his senses and almost fell over from the amount of information that flooded his system. He closed his eyes to focus on the wine that was now raised as the toast came to an end and examined the components of it. Grapes, water, sugar… and one more thing. He just needed to identify it. Cups were lowered as the people made ready to drink and Merlin nearly fainted in the effort to identify the last scent. Then it hit him.

The pitcher filled with the castle’s wine barely touched the floor before Merlin had jumped over the table and grabbed the drink straight from the king’s hand just as he was about to drink. The clattering sound echoed in the hall as silence spread in surprise. It took a moment for Merlin’s body to recover from the sudden movement and rush of adrenaline and when it finally did, he had to move back from the raging king.

“Merlin!” he bellowed, glancing around in embarrassment before glaring his servant down. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Merlin, in a moment of hesitance, sniffed the wine again to ensure that he was right. There was no doubt; the wine had a darker aftertaste of deadly nightshade, a highly poisonous plant with no known cure. Merlin extended his arm away from the king, though making sure to keep eye contact with his, continuously proven, fragile and very mortal friend.

“It’s poisoned.” Merlin stated, unwavering even under the king’s impatient glare. Immediately, the crowd roared, some in outrage of the accusation, others in fear or doubt, looking to their own cups for any signs of danger. The smallest sign of uncertainty in the king’s eyes that had appeared by the word ‘poisoned’ disappeared after the offended guests’ cries. He stoically lifted a hand to silence his guests before raising his voice.

“To everyone here, I apologise for my servant’s unfounded outburst,” he said, throwing a pointed look at Merlin, “He probably had too much to drink himself. Let us not worry over thoughtless rants but rather be thankful that we have the privilege of intelligent conversation, as not everyone, obviously, has.”

The king’s light-hearted twist on the situation brought relief to the guests and laughter filled the hall. With the distraction, Arthur used the moment to silently tell Merlin, with a stern look in his eyes, to get himself away from the attention and behave properly. However, Merlin would not let the cup anywhere near the king. He was still convinced, that he was right. As the laughter died out, everyone noticed the servant still standing seriously in the middle of the room, and the heavy atmosphere returned. In an attempt to make everyone satisfied, Gaius jumped to his ward’s rescue.

“If it will please you, I could take the cup and prove it harmless, just to appease the uncertain.” Gaius offered, and Arthur sent a grateful smile in his direction. It was as much of a solution to get out of the mess that Merlin had created. Though he didn’t believe Merlin’s sudden worried claim, he was sure it would comfort everyone, including himself, so that the feast may continue in peace. And afterwards, he’d make sure to work Merlin to death the next couple of days. Just as he gave a nod of approval and Gaius made his way toward Merlin, the queen stood.

“I will not take this! I will not stand by and let you insult us to our faces and nor will my people.” A series of agreeing grunts supported her words. “If you do not trust us to not try to poison you _in your own home_ how can we trust you as an ally?” More grunts with more conviction answered and even Arthur’s own people looked dubious to their king, wondering what his answer would be.

Arthur swallowed. “It is no accusation towards you, milady, nor towards your people. It is merely a compromise to prove your innocence towards the uncertain in this kingdom.”

Merlin could tell the king was trying his best to sound reasonable, but he could also see the flicker of panic in his eyes.

The queen huffed and her people too.

“We came to you, for we heard of your fair and just rule. Is it fair to assume the worst of guests who willingly came to you for friendship? Is it just to question our integrity just to prove it to a mere servant? Tell me, Arthur Pendragon, if this is your true rule, why should we even consider you a potential ally?”

Her reasoning was valid and Arthur struggled to please his guests and get Merlin out of the spotlight. Noticing his struggle, the king also stood.

“Perhaps the easiest solution, to both please my wife and my people, as well as save you the embarrassment of getting a negative result,” he said, gesturing towards Gaius, “why don’t we let the boy test it out for himself, hm? Go on, drink it.”

A mix of surprise, relief, and curiosity went through the crowd, except for merlin and the monarchs. Merlin had been prepared from the very moment he jumped across the table and grabbed the cup to drink it himself in case the situation would turn out like this. After all, it was not the first time such a thing had happened. However, back then Uther had ruled and cared little for the servant; now Arthur was regent and had to do the best for his kingdom. Back then the two boys had only had a fraction of the relationship they shared now and even then, Arthur had been nervous and offered to drink it on Merlin’s behalf. This time, with a relationship nearly tenfold the intimacy they had then, Arthur didn’t hesitate to jump over the table himself and reach for the cup.

“This is ridiculous,” he repeated, horrible memories of last time flashing before his eyes. “I’ll drink it.”

The onlookers curiously observed as king and manservant fought to drink from the cup. The situation seemed absurdly humorous to others but terrifyingly uncertain for those who had the slightest doubt in their minds. In the end, the king’s raw strength won over the gangly manservant, and he brought the cup to his lips, bending his neck backwards to quickly swallow the liquid and prove, once and for all, that it was harmless.

In one second, people went from curious to confused as the cup and liquid disappeared just as the liquid inside started to flow towards the king’s mouth. The king himself looked flabbergasted, before his vision caught the sight of his servant with the cup to his lips.

“You –“ he exclaimed, his brain still shocked and trying to make sense of the situation. It was not humanly possible to move that fast and Arthur hadn’t even felt anything. It just suddenly disappeared. Which could only mean one thing.

“You – you used – magic?” the words stumbled clumsily out of the otherwise regal figure. Arthur seemed complete at loss, like a young boy without any parent. That was exactly how he felt: like the boy who lost his father in too young of an age, too young to take on the responsibility of being king. Except this time, it wasn’t his father who had barely shown any affection towards him. It was Merlin; his closest and best friend who was so foolishly honest and so unaware of the danger he put himself in. The utterly dedicated friend who, despite having no fighting skill, faced danger with Arthur as though it was an old friend. But then, he wasn’t entirely defenceless, was he? How long had he practised magic? All this time, had he been hiding his sorcery, conspiring with others who sought to bring down Camelot? An insider with all the information about Arthur – everything he’d ever told Merlin: how many of his enemies knew of that?

Arthur barely registered the roar of his knights as Merlin fell to the floor with streaks of black filling his veins across the entirety of his body. All he could do was stare at his lost friend, wondering where it all went wrong. As the knights outnumbered the visiting citizens and brought them to the cells, Gaius ran to his ward and picked him up. Arthur, still staring at the traitor, got eye contact with him and received a weak smile from the sorcerer.

“At least now – now you don’t have to execute me,” Merlin said light-heartedly, as though they were bantering as usual, interrupted by coughs and black liquid colouring his lips. It seemed that he had spent his last energy on saying that, since he collapsed in Gaius’ arms who requested help from a nearby servant.

With everyone leaving the room, either to help Gaius, run away in fear or ushered to the dungeon by knights, Arthur remained in his place, still staring at the spot where his cup lay and where drops of black liquid was the only sign of the sudden turn of events.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur was sitting in his room, alone, by his desk as he had been in the last three days after _the incident_ happened. He didn’t think about it at all – or at least he tried his best to avoid it. Instead, he consumed paper after paper, finally catching up on all the boring reading that he usually got Merlin to do. But now, there was no servant to give him quick summaries of ten-page reports or to clean his room or dress him or anything. He didn’t let anyone come close to him – in fact, the only ones who were allowed to enter his room were the kitchen servants, who brought him his meals, and knights who handed in more reports. Though he knew his prisoners were getting tired of receiving no trial or any communication at all, no one dared disturb the king’s ominous bubble which seemed unstable as though it would burst any moment soon. He did not think of the prisoners, for then he would have to think about Merlin, and that was out of the question. He had heard nothing from Gaius and he was glad of that – in fact, he hoped the two of them had left, and would never return, so he wouldn’t have to deal with either of them.

He had decided this was the best course of action after Gwaine’s outburst. It was on that evening, Arthur had sat on his bed with a blank stare in the too empty room, entirely undisturbed until Gwaine rushed in and took a stance right in front of Arthur. It took some time for the king to focus on the angered face and the words exiting his mouth.

“I know this is your way, but it doesn’t have to be. I’ve seen farmers use magic to save their crops during a drought – without their food, their entire village would’ve starved! I’ve seen mothers use magic to prepare dinner while looking after their children. And I’ve seen Merlin do countless of selfless things, using magic to save your life, well-knowing that it would cost him his own. Yes, there are people who use magic for evil, but there are also those who use them for the people they care about and love!”

The mention of the person who was most close to him had stirred something inside of him, and the mention of care and love pushed him over the edge. If Merlin really cared for him, then why would he indulge in practices he knew were forbidden? There was reason behind the madness and Merlin of all people should know that. Furthermore, if he really cared, why did he keep it hidden? Why did he lie all this time? No, there was no explanation except the pure, selfish reasons behind corrupted sorcerers. Arthur stood tall, staring Gwaine down with a dark, empty look.

“Practising magic is treason. Punishable by death. One more word of this and you will be considered a traitor conspiring with a sorcerer. I don’t want to do this Gwaine. It’s the law.”

His emotionless stream of words took Gwaine by surprise. Arthur had shut himself out of the world that he knew and loved and had instead adopted a kill-or-be-killed stance, trusting no one. In defeat, and in honour of his promise both as a knight and to Merlin, he let it go. He turned to leave but stopped right at the door. Without turning around, he shared his final thoughts before leaving:

“I joined you because I thought you were a fair and just king who saw beyond prejudice. But now I see that I was wrong. You’re just like the other tyrants running their kingdoms.”

His words should’ve left a deep hole inside of Arthur. He had never wanted to become Cenred – to become _his father_ – but he was already to empty to take anything to his broken heart. Perhaps he should’ve banished Gwaine. But he hadn’t. And Gwaine hadn’t left nor neglected his duties. So Arthur didn’t bother.

It didn’t even phase him when Gwaine, for the first time in three days, entered his room with a stack of papers. Wordlessly, he handed over the documents that Arthur eagerly looked through and grabbed a blank piece of parchment to write on. When Gwaine hesitated to leave but instead lingered by the desk, Arthur curiously looked up. That seemed to give Gwaine a bit of courage.

“Gaius says he’ll be gone any day now. I just thought you should know.”

Without waiting for a response or elaborating, Gwaine left the room – possibly because he’d been threatened the last time he brought it up – possibly because he didn’t want to think about it more than necessary.

Arthur should return to the documents but somehow, he couldn’t. The words filled his mind and his pen remained in the air, where it had been when Gwaine started talking.

_‘He’ll be gone’_ , who’d be gone? Merlin. Merlin would be gone. What did that mean? _Dead. He’ll be dead. He drank poison. The poison **you** were supposed to drink. He’ll die because of **you**._

Suddenly, all the emotion he should’ve felt the past three days rushed through him.

_Merlin’s a sorcerer. Merlin saved me. Merlin is my friend. Merlin is dying. Merlin. Merlin, Merlin –_

Arthur fumbled out of his chair, pushing his body towards the door even though the sudden movement made him dizzy. He sped down the hallways not even bothering to apologise for bumping into people, too busy running toward the stairs, toward the room where Merlin was.

_Please, please, please!_ Arthur mentally pleaded as he ran, tears caught in his eyes, afraid that he was already gone, that he’d lost his chance.

When he opened the door to the physician’s quarters, his eyes were instantly drawn to the mess of raven hair on the medical bed in the middle of the room. He disregarded Gaius’ attempt at hiding his ward and instead ran to Merlin’s side.

Everything he had gained in the past few minutes, every emotion and feeling hollowed his stomach as he looked at his manservant on the bed. Black, thick liquid filled the young man’s protruding veins, some had even burst and were covered by blackened bandages. His skin was grey and sunken in, his lips were dry and torn, slightly parted to reveal a blackened tongue. His eyes were closed but Arthur could see the movement behind them and with his furrowed eyebrows Arthur was sure he was having nightmares. Other than that, he remained unmoving, his long, slender fingers uncharacteristically still and cold to the touch. Carefully, Arthur reached out his hand and traced the black veins up to Merlin’s face before resting on his cheek. He felt fragile underneath his own healthy fingers, like a wounded butterfly with torn wings.

Unable to look his dying friend anymore, Arthur looked up to Gaius, who stood cautiously by Merlin’s head, unsure of the king’s intentions. However, seeing the tears in his eyes and the careful touch, his face contorted in sympathy and he sat down on the other side of the warlock. Realising the severity of the situation, Arthur quickly stood to Gaius’ confusion. He’d wasted too much time already pretending he didn’t care, pretending Merlin was well and away from Camelot.

“Where’s your book?” Arthur asked, looking feverishly around the room. Gaius furrowed his eyebrows and repeated: “My book?”

“Yes, your book! The one with the poisons and the antidotes and the dangerous beasts who guard it or something – where is it?”

Finally realising the source of the sudden madness, Gaius stood.

“There is no antidote.” Gaius said carefully, looking sadly at the king. Arthur whipped around.

“What? There’s always _something_. There’s got to be something!” He yelled and kept rummaging through the shelves and cupboards, making a mess which, for once, Gaius didn’t care for.

“There’s nothing. I’ve looked to everything. I’m sorry.”

Arthur wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept looking through everything. Gaius, knowing there was nothing he could do, sat down beside Merlin and wiped his forehead of sweat. After a couple of minutes, the franticness dulled down and Arthur collapsed on the floor, his gaze cast down in shame. Gaius stood to comfort the young king and Arthur let himself, in this moment of weakness, cry in the physician’s shoulder.

“What have I done? What have I done, what have I done,”

Arthur cried, guilt and sorrow nagging at the core of his being. Gaius shushed him, rocking him slightly.

“You didn’t cause this. Merlin would protect you for any cost – there was nothing anyone could’ve done.”

Though Arthur knew it wasn’t entirely true – he could’ve believed Merlin and made Gaius examine the poison, he could’ve made someone else drink it – he tried to take comfort in Gaius’ words. They sat for a while like that, comforting each other until Arthur’s tears had run out.

“You could talk to him,” Gaius offered after silence had entered the room. Arthur looked at him, curious. “He’s still somewhat conscious. Though his body is paralysed, and he can’t respond, he can still hear you.”

The thought of his bubbly manservant unable to speak caused Arthur’s throat to close again but he nonetheless nodded, thankful for at least some form of communication. As they rose, Arthur approached the too still Merlin and Gaius left the room to allow them some privacy.

Arthur wanted to cry at the pitiful sight of his manservant; he wanted to yell at him to wake up, to stop being lazy and come back to him but he couldn’t. He knew it wouldn’t matter. Merlin would die soon. There was nothing he could do about it.

Tenderly, his hand found Merlin’s cheek again and he tried to form words with his dry mouth and clogged throat. Finally, he seemed to find words, although he was sure none could truly explain how he felt.

“Merlin, I –“ he began but had to stop to clear his throat. He took a deep breath and focused on conveying his feelings for the barely conscious warlock.

“I don’t know where to begin, to be honest. I’m angry, obviously.” He added, chuckling slightly at his own temper but quickly turned sombre considering that he didn’t get to say a proper goodbye. “But I – I think I understand. I can’t claim I do, but, I want to. And it would be best if you could explain it to me.” The king waited for a couple of seconds in the foolish hope that Merlin would sit upright, be okay, and tell him everything he had missed. Of course, that didn’t happen.

“You know how my father was. How I was raised to believe that magic is inherently evil. But then that’s not much to my defence is it? Considering what we’ve been through and my kingdom’s relationship to druids. Really, I’m mostly just… sad that you didn’t tell me. I thought I knew you like you know me. To the very deepest core of my soul.”

Arthur had to stop and cough awkwardly, unused to the raw sincerity and honesty in his confession. But he needed to say it now. Otherwise, he would never have the chance.

“I – I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a love-struck fool, but I guess the best way to explain it is – we’ve got this strange connection. Somehow, I think we were always meant to be a part of each other’s lives. Call it destiny, if you will.” Arthur chuckled at the thought: a king of a land where magic is banned destined to have a peasant sorcerer by his side. Thinking about it, it seemed absurd. But in reality, he couldn’t imagine it in any other way.

“I guess I never said this but thank you. Thank you for saving my life. Both now and back when we had barely met. And what do I know, you’ve probably saved me more than I know, haven’t you? I bet that’s what you were doing on all your tavern visits – secretly protecting me.” Arthur laughed heartily at the image of puny Merlin standing in the shadows and protecting him from things he himself knew nothing of. His laughter soon died, though, as he realised it was entirely possible. Merlin’s strange disappearances and appearances at places he wasn’t supposed to be – his weird mood swings that made no sense. Looking at Merlin, he saw something that he also saw three days ago: a stranger, someone he knew nothing of. And yet, he was Merlin. Merlin, his lazy servant who would put a smile on Arthur’s face in the morning, no matter how many boring council meetings he had to sit through. Merlin, who never left Arthur’s side even when faced with great danger. Merlin, who believed in him more than anyone and who would always, _always_ protect him no matter the cost. Even if it meant dying believing his other half hated him. The thought brought tears to Arthur’s eyes once more, this time he burrowed his face in Merlin’s stomach, hugging the frail body close to him, not wanting to let him go.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into the blanket on top of the warlock, and sat upright to look at Merlin’s face, wishing he could look into his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you. I’m sorry for never telling you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

Another set of sobs raged through his body, causing painful, involuntary, and incontrollable jerks throughout his body. Finally, he rested his hand on the warlock’s cheek once more and caressed it slightly, whispering:

“Please, forgive me.”

He didn’t expect a response. It seemed he had finally, truly realised that Merlin would not magically get better; he was almost gone, and Arthur felt his absence by the deep void in his heart.

As he pulled back, something in the corner of his eye moved, and he turned towards it. Merlin’s index finger had risen from its resting place on the bed and instead pointed slightly upwards. Arthur looked around, almost certain that the finger had been lying down with the others, before he looked at Merlin’s face again. Gingerly, he intertwined his own fingers with Merlin.

It was but a mere second, but it felt like years. Images rushed by Arthur’s vision, all of Merlin. Not just images but memories, Arthur realised. Segments of Merlin’s life, all of which contained one element: Arthur. It was Merlin, calling out his name in different places, different times, and in very different emotions. He couldn’t recall them all, but there were some of Merlin crying his name desperately, whispering it uncertainly, shouting it frustratingly, saying it quietly, smiling fondly, mumbling sickly – moments Arthur knew, moments he didn’t. All of it led up to the day, three days ago, where Merlin had groaned his name, and then called it proudly, a spark in his eyes as he looked at his king and his friend.

When it was over, Arthur had to sit a moment to comprehend all of it. He wasn’t sure what exactly Merlin was telling him, but he knew that he was forgiven. That he would always be forgiven. Merlin would and always had stood by him, even when he was being an idiot. No one had ever shown such devotion, such care for him, not as just the king or the prince, but as Arthur, the human being with flaws and failures like anyone else. And Arthur knew, there would never be another like that.


End file.
